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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211182">do i know you?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet'>notjodieyet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, For a Friend, Not Beta Read, Ruth Is 6B, Thoschei, mentioned twissy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:15:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do I know you?” said Ruth. </p>
<p>“No,” said Missy. “Yes.”</p>
<p>Ruth smiled and took another sip of coffee. </p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>missy hadn't been expecting to meet this new regeneration of the doctor; but she's growing quite fond of her already.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor | Ruth Clayton/Missy, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>do i know you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/roberette/gifts">roberette</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Missy just wanted to see the Doctor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, she could have seen him easily: pop into her TARDIS, stop in the seventies… or her own political campaign, perhaps. He had such glorious floppy hair back then, freckles hidden by his collar and tightly buttoned suit. She was sure that Doctor was utterly terrified to show a bit of skin, preferring to hide it with his ruthlessly pinstriped jacket and too-long Converse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. She wanted to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> Doctor, with his furrowed brows and floofy hair and concerned frown, his stammered reluctance at her constant scarlet kisses until he finally melted in her arms and admitted his sweet, sweet defeat. She wanted her Doctor to play chess with and say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Missy that’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> how a rook moves, Missy!</span>
  </em>
  <span> and giggle at her made-up pieces despite himself. She wanted him to tell her made-up stories with a painfully strict moral at the end as he combed her caramel curls and wove pink wildflowers into those messy strands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor (because Missy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was who she was) sitting in front of her was neither the skinny softie Missy’s politician self knew nor was she Missy’s very specific favourite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, Missy did not know her at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It was very strange. Even the incarnations Missy had never directly met she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard </span>
  </em>
  <span>about, from dear companions or pictures or running into them once. She had met his Ninth once, before he’d started his courtship with that lovely blonde. It had been a hurried meeting, and she was sure he hadn’t recognized her at all, but she had left the first kiss that body ever received on his mouth and grinned at him as she skipped away.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said your name was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ruth</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said Missy, watching the woman’s movements hyper-carefully. Ruth — the Doctor — Ruth-Doctor — reached forward and picked up her coffee cup, blew the steam off the top, and took a careful sip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth laughed. The Doctor. Ruth. Whoever she was. “In some circles.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy bounced a leg under the table and examined the Doctor’s face very carefully. It was wonderfully soft, and she longed to run a fingertip over her nose and kiss the corners of her eyes. Missy wanted to see every inch of this Doctor, drink it in like a martini on the beach, admire every glorious bit of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I know you?” said Ruth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said Missy. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth smiled and took another sip of coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only by chance that Missy had run into this Doctor at all. (Although their meetings never seemed to be coincidence. The Doctor and Missy were always endlessly drawn to each other, moths to each other’s flames, reaching closer and closer out to each other until one of them was invariably burnt to a crisp). She had ducked into the tiny coffeeshop to escape the torrential downpour of rain outside and stumbled directly into Ruth’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy felt so tiny next to her. Yes, she was slimmer, but it was more…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so insignificant. Ruth felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>old.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Doctor felt like an ancient, eldritch god sometimes, and Ruth was not exempt from this. Missy had just stutterd, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, hello,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” when she’d first saw Ruth, and Ruth chuckled and invited Missy to sit with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Master,” said Missy quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth looked only slightly surprised at that. “Hm,” she said. Missy wondered if she even knew what the name meant. “You’re a Time Lord.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lady,” said Missy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth nodded. “Does that mean you can help me with something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy considered the question: on one hand, she could spend more time with this mysterious, wonderful Doctor. On the other hand, anything the Doctor wanted help with was going to be disgustingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>moral</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The thought of it made her sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised her iced coffee to her lips and sucked it through the straw, keeping her eyes locked with Ruth’s. “What kind of something,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth lifted her eyebrows a tick and said, “Should I order scones for us? You look like the kind of person who likes scones with her coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy did not mention that usually scones went best with </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> coffee. “Blueberry, please.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can pay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy hadn’t expected that. The Doctor could </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>pay. The Doctor had </span>
  <span>£0.00 at any given time, and if she ever had a penny she would use it to help people, or something revoltingly kindhearted like that. “Thank… you.” (Missy was also notoriously bad at expressing gratitude.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth smiled. Missy squirmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth came back with a vanilla scone and a blueberry scone, both steaming hot and crumbly, and set the latter down in front of Missy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want me to help you with?” said Missy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth nodded at the scone. “Tell me if that’s any good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy broke off the end and stuffed it in her mouth, mostly to prevent herself from asking any more stupid questions. It was warm and surprisingly delicious, the sweet, fresh blueberries bursting between her teeth. She flashed a double thumbs-up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missy was going to say something else, but she couldn’t resist a second bite of the scone before did. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>good,” she said through the crumbs in her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she said, “Now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you want me to do? And don’t dodge the question, Doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes widened slightly at the name. So Missy</span>
  <em>
    <span> had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been right. Good. She could always recognize her own spouse. “Kos—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm. Now, does it involve,” Missy scrunched up her nose. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Charity</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Or is it good and fun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The latter.” Missy could see Ruth almost reach out to touch her (certify she was real? Certify she wanted to be here? Or was it just the Doctor’s usual sappy nonsense?), but she drew away before she could. Pity, that. “Up for a bit of… petty theft?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My</span>
  <em>
    <span> dearest</span>
  </em>
  <span> Doctor,” breathed Missy, as (she was sure) hearts popped up above her head. “I would love to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruth winked. The Doctor. Ruth. “Well.” She stood and reached out a hand for Missy. Missy took it. Her skin was unbelievably — almost unrealistically — soft, tender, sweet. “Shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t want anything else,” gushed Missy, and gazed into someone else’s Doctor’s eyes.</span>
</p>
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